Page 9 of My Date With A Rubber Duckie

“Every single word.”

“That must have been annoying.” Her laugh is self-deprecating. “I’m sorry.”

“Pretty sure I’m the only one who needs to apologize in this situation.”

“But you were forced to listen to me babble and complain and tell you every benign thought that popped into my head.”

“And?”

“Well, that had to be boring, right? I mean, you must have wanted to pull your hair out, listening to some stranger who wouldn’t shut up.”

“Hey.” Gripping her shoulders, I maneuver her around, forcing her to face me. “I loved getting to hear your thoughts. It was aprivilege.”

She dips her head, avoiding my eye, but I pinch her chin and force her to look at me. She bites her lip, keeping her gaze down even though her face is tilted up. What happened to the open woman who poured out her heart and her hurts to me earlier?

“You don’t share your thoughts or open up like that very often, do you?”

Her lashes flutter closed, and I can’t tell if the dampness on her cheeks is from the bath or tears.

“Most people don’t want to hear what I have to say.” She shrugs one shoulder while slowly swirling her hand at the surface of the water, parting the bubbles. “As a kid, my dad told me I talked too much and my mom complained that she never had enough quiet. So… I started talking to my Duckie. Whenever I needed to get out all the thoughts and words I’d held in all day, I’d take a bath and spill them to my little yellow duck. It’s silly.”

“No. It’s sweet.” I kiss her temple. “But I wish you didn’t have to look to a kid’s toyfor comfort instead of your family. They should have loved you enough to listen.”

“Oh, it’s not like that. They love me. They’re great parents. But we just… I don’t really need to share every thought that pops into my head. Everyone needs some quiet now and then.”

“Sure, but everyone also needs to feel heard.” I stroke her cheek and she leans into the touch.

“You really didn’t mind listening to me?”

“Not a bit.” Truthfully, every word captivated me and made me fall a little in love with her. Which is an absurd thought since I barely know her, so I keep that part to myself. “I only wish I could have responded to a few things.”

“Like what?”

“Well, for starters. Your former boss is an idiot. And if you want me to, I’d happily break into his house and smash his nose for you.”

Her laugh is beautiful. I want to bottle it up so I can shower myself in iteveryday.

“And you’re wrong about The Beatles," I continue, "one hundred percent right about Star Wars, and I desperately wanted to tell you not to give up on your dream of becoming an architect.”

She turns to her side so she can snuggle against my chest. “Tell me about you.”

“Well, you already know the most important thing about me.”

“Are there other people who can change into rubber ducks?”

I shrug. “Not sure. I know about fifty object shifters, half of whom are family, but none of them shift into bath toys.”

“They shift into other things?”

“Yeah. All different things.”

“That’s cool.” She plays with the bubbles for a minute before asking, “And what do you do with that ability? I mean, it’s not like a traditional super power or anything, but do you… I don’t know use it for good somehow?”

Not sure I want to tell her this, but I need to be honest with her, because I have every intention of seeing this womanagain. “Well, we break in places. Or at leastmyfamily does.”

“You’re criminals?” She pulls away and turns so she’s sitting with her back against the opposite side of the tub.

“Not exactly.” I hold up my palms. “We’re licensed contractors. Mostly for the government, doing jobs that other people can’t do. They don’t know we’re shifters, just that we have a skill for getting in and out of places. I don’t do a lot of the B&E jobs myself, since a rubber duck in an office would be suspicious, but my brother’s a pen and he gets lots of action. Mostly, I run the computers.”

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